


Hot Wings and Hot Guys

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Deputy Derek Hale, Femboy hooters, First Meetings, Food, M/M, One Shot, Police Officer Derek Hale, Short One Shot, Waiter Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26171314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Stiles works at a femboy Hooters. Officer Derek Hale just wants lunch.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 19
Kudos: 416





	Hot Wings and Hot Guys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveyProphet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveyProphet/gifts).



“Remind me again, why do I do this?” Stiles asked, leaning on the varnished wood counter of the bar.

“Because you needed a job,” Lydia said, drying a glass and setting it aside behind the bar. “And because you have a body that rakes in the tips. Seriously, why did you hide all of _that_ —” She gestured at Stiles’ body. “—under layers of baggy clothing for all of high school?”

“Because I was socially awkward and had no self esteem,” Stiles answered honestly.

“Well, take it from me, you had nothing to be shy about then and you sure as hell don’t have anything to be shy about now,” Lydia said, offering Stiles a sweet smile.

Stiles smiled back.

He had to admit, she was right. He had grown a lot, no longer the awkward lanky kid he used to be. He was still lean but his biceps were curved by muscles and his abs were left exposed by the crop top he wore with ‘HOOTERS’ printed across the chest in bold orange letters. His firm thighs were accentuated by the short orange shorts that hugged the curves of his butt.

What’s more, he wasn’t the clumsy, flailing, nervous mess he used to be. He still had a few accidents or bumped in to things, but he never would have thought he’d be able to balance plates and drinks on a tray the way he does now.

He turned and looked around the bar. The walls were covered in wooden panelling that matched the bar that ran along one of the walls. Behind the bar was a wall of glass bottles with colourful labels. There were a few booths in the other side of the room and tables scattered across the open floor.

The bar was pretty quiet during lunch hours and Lydia would let Stiles sneak his textbooks into work so that he could study while it was quiet.

The bell above the door chimed, drawing Stiles back to reality.

He turned to see a young man standing by the doorway.

His raven black hair was cut short and slightly tousled and his strong jaw line was shadowed by a beard. His pale aventurine eyes were shadowed by dark circles, slightly unfocused as he stepped into the bar. He was dressed in the familiar beige uniform of the Beacon Hills Police Department, with a nameplate that read HALE, but the usual brown windcheater had been substituted for a worn black leather jacket.

Stiles stepped back from the bar and made his way over to the man, flashing a friendly smile as he greeted him. He showed him to a booth in the corner of the bar and offered him a menu.

“Thanks,” Officer Hale said quietly, glancing down at the menu for a few seconds. “Can I get a serve of original style chicken wings, a serve of smoky chicken wings and some curly fries?”

“Sure,” Stiles said, writing down the man’s order. “Would you like anything else?”

He shook his head and passed the menu back to Stiles. “That’s all, thanks.”

“No worries,” Stiles said cheerfully. “Coming right up.”

“Thank you.”

Stiles made his way back over to the bar, passing on the order. He picked up a bottle of water and a glass, balancing them onto of a tray as he carried it back to the table. He set the glass down and filled it before leaving the bottle on the table.

“Thank you,” Officer Hale said quietly, his voice drained and lethargic.

Stiles’ brow furrowed slightly in confusion as he turned away from the table and walked back to the bar. He set his tray down on the counter and turned back to look at the man.

He hadn’t so much as looked up since he walked through the door.

Stiles watched him for a moment before turning back to the bar.

One of the cooks called him over, setting the plates of food down on one of the black serving trays.

“Thanks,” Stiles said, lifting the tray and balancing it.

He carried the meal over to the booth where Officer Hale sat.

“Here you are. One serve of original chicken wings, one serve of smoky chicken wings and a late of curly fries,” Stiles said cheerfully, setting the plates down on the table.

The man straightened at the sight of the plates in front of him, like a predator spotting their prey.

“Thank you,” he said quickly, reaching for the first plate.

It looked delicious. The plate of original recipe chicken wings were fired to a golden brown, the fried breadcrumb batter crunching as he bit into it.

The curly fries were crispy and the smell of the freshly fried chips flooded the man’s senses.

The smoky chicken wings were glazed in a deep brown sauce, dripping from the wings and trickling down his fingers as he picked them up. The sauce dripped down his chin, coating his beard as he ate.

He didn’t care how uncivilised he looked; he was starving.

Slowly, the fog of hunger and fatigue began to clear from his mind.

He lifted another smoky barbecue chicken wing to his lips, biting into it as he sat back in his seat and looked around.

His eyes fell upon the waiter who stood a few meters away from him, choking on his chicken.

The young man was bent over the edge of a table as he wiped it down, his short orange shorts tightening around the curves of his firm ass.

Derek couldn’t help it; his eyes trailed down the rest of his body: his firm thighs, the curves of his legs, the moles that charted constellations across his skin like stars in the sky, the dip of his lower back.

Derek coughed as he tried to clear his throat.

The waiter seemed to notice, setting down the cloth as he turned and walked back over to Derek’s table.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked, his dark brown eyes full of worry as he looked at the man.

Derek froze, looking up at the young man like a deer caught in the headlights. He felt his face burn bright red as he stared up at the waiter.

His dark hair was slightly tousled, his chocolate brown eyes sparkling like pools of gold as they caught the light. His skin was as pale as moonlight and a few moles were scattered across his face. He was dressed in a white crop top that stopped just before his abs and a pair of short orange shorts that accentuated his hips, thighs and butt.

He was absolutely stunning.

A moment later, he realised what he probably looked like—sauce dripping down his face, rude and uncivilised—and a feeling of dread settling in his chest.

Stiles let out a quiet chuckle, reaching for one of the napkins on the table and gently wiping away some of the sauce that dripped down Derek’s face.

“Uh, thank you,” Derek said, shaking himself out of his stupor. He cleared his throat slightly. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe how rude I’ve been.”

“Not at all,” Stiles reassured him, offering him a kind smile.

“I just got off a twelve hour shift and I didn’t get a break, so I haven’t had anything to eat since before my shift,” Derek tried to explain. “And I’m so incredibly sorry for how rude I’ve been to you.”

“To me?” Stiles repeated back, slightly confused.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you or brush you off, and I’m sorry if I came off as rude or abrasive,” Derek explained.

“No apology needed.”

Derek bowed his head, feeling ashamed of himself.

Stiles shook it and passed Derek the napkin.

Derek cleaned himself up, wiping down his face and his sticky fingers.

“I’m Stiles,” the young man introduced himself, his face lighting up with a sweet smile.

“I’m Derek,” he replied, holding out his hand.

Stiles shook Derek’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Derek.”

Derek returned the smile.

“If you’re still hungry, Lydia makes the best caramel fudge cheesecake,” Stiles offered. “On the house.”

“That sounds delicious,” Derek said.

“I’ll bring it right over,” Stiles said, clearing away the empty plates that sat in front of Derek.

He carried them back to the kitchen, setting them down as Lydia plated up a slice of caramel fudge cheesecake.

“So…” Lydia prompted as she finished plating up the cheesecake and set it down on the black serving tray.

“So, what?” Stiles asked.

“Oh, come on, Stiles. He’s cute and he’s clearly into you.”

Stiles scoffed, screwing up his face in disbelief.

Lydia raised her hands in a mock surrender, letting the argument fall away.

Stiles picked up the serving tray and carried it out to the table. He set the cake down in front of Derek, who thanked him quietly. He returned the serving tray to the bar and continued to clean down the tables, ready for the rush of patrons that would come in a few hours.

When Derek had finished, Stiles gave him the bill.

“This may sound odd, but can we start again?”

“Why?” Stiles asked.

“Because I’d like to make a better first impression,” Derek admitted.

“Alright,” Stiles agreed.

“How does dinner sound?” Derek suggested. “Saturday?”

“I’ll have to see what I’m working.”

“You can have the day off!” Lydia shouted from the kitchen.

Stiles felt his cheeks warm with a blush. He smiled, trying to hide his embarrassment and hold back a laugh as he said, “Saturday it is.”

Derek paid his bill, leaving a very generous tip before heading towards the door.

“Derek,” Stiles called after him.

Derek stopped, turning back to Stiles.

Stiles pulled out his notepad, quickly writing something down before tearing out the page and folding it over.

“You forgot this,” Stiles said, walking over to Derek’s side and holding out the folded piece of paper.

Derek’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion as he took the piece of paper. He unfolded it, looking down at the scrawl of chicken-scratch handwriting that read _Stiles_ , and below it was a phone number.

A soft rosy pink blush coloured Derek’s cheeks as he folded the note over again. He smiled bashfully at Stiles. “Thank you.”

Stiles smiled in return. “See you Saturday.”

Derek’s smile softened as he repeated it back, “See you Saturday.”

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


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